Designer Knockoff by Ellen Byerrum

fabric store. Instead, she was being marched to the chichi shops on upper Wisconsin Avenue in Chevy Chase with Stella and Miguel on either side to go shopping for—shoes. Shoes? I don’t even have a dress yet. Shoes are the last thing I need! There was no time for dinner, but she had managed to grab a handful of Hershey’s Kisses off Trujillo’s desk on her way over from The Eye. He had laid in a supply during Felicity’s diet.
    “Honestly, Lacey, you have the most boring shoes,” Stella, her friend, hairstylist, and footwear consultant, announced loudly.
    “My shoes are boring because I like to use my feet. I walk on them.” They were in the appallingly expensive shoe store known as Scarpabellas, which Lacey had never before even dared to enter.
    “You haven’t been there yet?” Miguel had said. “Then that’s our secret destination. It’s so exclusive that people who don’t need to know don’t even know it exists.”
    The oh-so-exclusive store was snuggled between two town houses and had the air of a private club. The carved oak door bore a simple brass plaque: Scarpabellas. Beautiful Shoes.
    The door opened at Miguel’s knock. “Buenos días, amigo, ” he said to the gamine-faced redhaired salesman.
    “Hi, doll!” The salesman turned out to be an old friend of Miguel’s. His name was Chad. They air-kissed. “Welcome to Scarpabellas.” He gave Stella and Lacey a skeptical once-over, but allowed them in on Miguel’s say-so. “My poor, poor Miguel, I heard the news. Those Bentley bitches will pay.”
    “Not now, Chad. We have a mission.”
    “But you’re bruised, you poor thing.”
    “Dramatically, I hope.”
    “Absolutely. I couldn’t have done it better if I’d designed them.”
    While they chatted about the merits of Miguel’s bruises, Lacey looked over the store. It was a tasteful mixture of hardwood floors, soft taupe carpets, and softer chairs. The shoes were arranged carefully on the walls like art. In fact, it looked like an expensive art gallery. She was surprised the displays weren’t signed by the artist.
    She looked down at her vintage spectator pumps that were actually beginning to hurt. But after a full day on her feet in the salon, chirpy little Stella was still wearing strappy black high heels. She also wore a painful-looking strappy black bustier. She looks like a cover girl for Goths Gone Wild.
    Stella picked up a pair of impossibly smooth ankle boots with a Wicked Witch of the West toe and a spike heel. “Beauty knows no pain, you know.”
    “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. With a sharp stick in it,” Lacey said.
    “Ladies, ladies, calm down,” Miguel cut in. “The festivities have only just begun.” He was wearing sunglasses and a black beret that dipped low over the side of his face that showed the most bruises. Although the day was warm, he wore a black turtleneck and a black jacket, accented by a red rose. He called it his French look. “We’re here to shop, schmooze, and be merry, for tomorrow we hit the unemployment lines. And I am so going to collect. I have to get there before the bruises fade. If they fade too soon, I’ll have Stella give me another little beating, just for color. And then I’m going to sue.”
    Stella nodded. “See, Lacey, it’s a celebration, and I will celebrate tonight if we find you a decent pair of shoes for the gala .” Stella stretched out the vowels for emphasis. Lacey counted at least seven As in that gala. She turned and caught a glimpse of the three of them in one of the full-length mirrors. Career woman, Goth princess, French philosopher. We look like we’re going to a costume party,and it’s only September.
    “We’re having a good time. I am. You are too, Miss Grumpy Two-Shoes,” Miguel said.
    “I am, I am,” Lacey said, “but I thought you wanted to talk about the Bentleys.”
    “When I have your undivided attention. Over drinks. First we have a mission. Phase one: shoes. Fabulous shoes.” He turned her